A Peyton Family Christmas (3 page)

“
He
gave me my own rooms. He bought a new car, he built a crib, he's
even baby-proofing his ranch for a child who's not his own.”
Michelle gestured helplessly to the table, where plenty of unwrapped
presents towered on the far end. “Everything I buy for him ends
up seeming shallow. Stupid.”

“
Well,
here's your problem.” Nick rose and walked over to pick
through the pile of gifts. “You can't pay him back for
doing those things with a new GPS system. You can't pay him
back for it at all. That's not the way it works.”

“
No,
I suppose not.” Michelle sighed and leaned back in her chair.
“Every time I feel grateful to him, I feel guilty. Like I'm
not missing Aaron enough.”

“
They're
two entirely different things,” Nick asserted gently. “I'm
grateful for what Luciano's done, but that has nothing to do
with where my heart lies.”

“
Rationally,
I understand. Emotionally?” She laughed, sounding a little
tired. “Can I blame pregnancy hormones? I don't feel very
rational about anything right now.”

“
Blame
anything you want. Hell...” Nick nodded toward the bay window,
where the snow outside glowed gently in the dim light. “Blame
it on the moon.”

“
It
is pretty tonight. It's always pretty here, though. And
peaceful.”

When
Michelle said it like that, Nick couldn't tell if she truly
appreciated the peace, or if it was just a nice way of saying
boring
.
“Do you miss New York at all?”

“
No.”
It came out too fast, and Nick could tell Michelle realized it. Her
sister closed her eyes and shrugged helplessly. “I miss the
Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Aaron always used to find an
excuse for us to be there for the lighting ceremony. But everything I
miss, I miss because of him, so I don't want to be there
anyway.”

Nick
went to her and curled an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe next
year. Surely we could visit Dad for that.”

But
Michelle shook her head. “I'm not taking my son to New
York while the Conclave is there. Not for Dad, not for anyone. He can
be a normal kid here.”

“
All
right.” Her sister's pain was palpable, but so was her
resolve. “What do we have left to wrap?”

“
The
digital camera can go to Kat. Unless you think she'd like a
Kindle? We could give her both...” Michelle rose and circled
around the table to retrieve a flat package wrapped in brown paper,
which she set on the table. “I had this made too,” she
said, sounding a little uncertain as she pulled a framed picture from
the wrapping. “One of the ranch hands took it in for me last
month.”

It
was a black-and-white shot of Luciano's favorite horse, one
he'd raised from a foal and taken special pains to care for and
train. “I think you should give it to him,” Nick
whispered. “Say it's from both of us if you want, but I
know he'd love it.”

Michelle's
fingers hovered over the frame for a moment, and she nodded. “From
the Peytons, then. We all have plenty of reason to thank him.”

“
Yeah,
we do.” Nick eased onto the edge of the table. “I bought
part of Luciano's ranch.”

Her
sister froze. “You—you did
what
?”

“
I
bought a few acres down by the creek, and I had Derek's friend
Andrew draft a design for me. A house plan. It's Derek's
Christmas present.”

Tears
filled Michelle's eyes, and she blinked them away as she drew
in a ragged breath. “You're staying with us.”

“
We're
staying.” It hadn't been a quick decision, and certainly
not a unilateral one—though she hadn't talked to Derek
about building a house. She hadn't needed to, not after he and
Luciano had begun discussing additions to the main ranch house. “At
least for the next year or two.”

“
Thank
you, Nicky.” Michelle twisted and wrapped her arms around Nick.
“Just...thank you. To both of you.”

Much
more, and the gratitude Michelle imagined she owed everyone would
break her. “It's as much for us as it is for you,”
Nick insisted, hugging her sister tight. “Derek, too. He's
kind of fond of you, you know.”

Michelle
eased away and wiped at her cheeks. “He's wonderful. You
found a good man.”

“
Yeah,
I did.” Life with Derek was better than she'd dreamed,
and all because it was
real
.
Fantasy could never measure up. “And I have it on good
authority he'll make a protective but doting uncle.”

“
So
I've heard,” her sister murmured. “Kat's
already issued her warnings. To be perfectly honest, I find that
comforting.”

Yes,
she probably would. Nick made a show of rolling her eyes. “God
help me if I get pregnant. Will you protect me when
I'm
the one he's fussing over?”

“
Not
a chance. Not with the way all of you hover over me.”

“
Hey,
I've been behaving myself.”

“
Mostly.”

“
You
should take it.” Nick grinned. “‘Mostly behaved'
is as good as it gets with me, or have you forgotten?”

“
Uh-huh.”
Michelle pointed to the chair. “Sit down. I'm teaching
you how to use the wrapping paper cutter.”

“
Yes,
ma'am.” Anything to keep the hint of sparkle in
Michelle's eyes, to hold sadness at bay for a little while
longer.

*
* *

Derek
handed Mahalia a cup of eggnog. “If we stay in the corner,
maybe Kat won't make us wear Santa hats.”

She
laughed. “You keep clinging to that impossible optimism, but
your cousin's putting a hat on your head before the night's
out.”

Since
she'd just coaxed Luciano into donning a cheerful red stocking
cap, Derek thought Mahalia was probably correct. “Who am I
kidding? If she'll keep laughing, I'll wear anything she
puts on my head.”

Mahalia's
amusement softened into a smile. “Of course you will. And
you're lucky you found a lady who needs to take care of family
just as much as you do.”

“
I
know I am.” Across the room, Nick had coaxed her sister to her
feet and into a reeling swing dance that Michelle navigated with
effortless grace. Knowledge imparted by tutors, Michelle had
confessed, because the Conclave had never allowed her to attend the
dance lessons she'd wanted as a girl.

John
Peyton had done everything in his power to carve out a life for both
of his daughters, in spite of the obstacles. It wasn't hard to
see where Nick's devotion to her family had been learned.

“
That's
what matters.” Mahalia patted his leg. “I'm glad I
convinced Kat to bring you to my bar. Though I have to admit, I
didn't think it'd take you and Nicole so damn
long
to get it right.”

Derek
laughed. “That's what happens when you meddle. Us
thick-skulled fools get it wrong and ruin all your plans.”

“
Mm-hmm,
and I've learned my lesson.”

“
Say
it isn't so. You're retiring before you marry Alec off?”

“
Fate,”
she declared, “will take care of Alec Jacobson. Just you
watch.”

Fate
had its hands full with Alec. Then again, who could have traced the
wild path of events that had taken him from human to shapeshifter,
from a man with a crush on Nick to a man who would kill for her?
“Fate's sure got a funny way of doing things.”

“
That
it does.” Mahalia flashed him one last smile and rose, heading
to the kitchen.

Nick
stumbled over and dropped into the spot the woman had vacated with a
giggle. “Pregnant and barfy, and Michelle can still dance
circles around me. What's wrong with that picture?”

Derek
dropped his arm across Nick's shoulders and nestled her closer
against his side. “Don't worry, baby. I bet you could
still kick her ass at target shooting.”

She
brightened. “That's true.”

“'
Course
it is. We all have our strengths, and I like yours just fine.”

An
unusual blush colored her cheeks. “Yeah, you do.” Then
she reached under the end table by the couch and pulled out a flat,
square box with a ribbon tied around it. “You haven't
opened your present yet.”

The
box was even lighter than it looked, as if there was hardly anything
inside. Derek frowned in concentration as he eased the ribbon free.
“The mysterious package I picked up at the post office?”

“
Part
of it.” The paper fell away to reveal a folio stamped with the
construction company's logo. Nick reached over and eased open
the leather folder. “Call it an artist's rendering,
courtesy of our architect.”

He
recognized Andrew's work. Precise lines and neat handwriting,
all of it combined to paint a picture of a gorgeous... “A
farmhouse?”

“
Our
house,” she whispered. “If you don't like the
layout, Andrew said you two can work together to modify the plans.
And Luciano agreed to sell me a few acres. I was thinking something
by the creek...” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Nick
had been thinking about building a house. For them. He traced the
edge of the top sketch with one finger and tried to think past the
design to what it would mean.

A home.

“
It's
beautiful, baby,” he murmured. “And the creek is
perfect.”

Nick
made a soft noise and curled closer to his side. “I know you've
been talking to Luciano about building additions to the house here.
Maybe, in the spring, you can do this instead.”

Close
enough that they'd be on hand whenever Michelle needed them,
but far enough away to have a little bit of privacy. And it would be
their
place, a place where Kat could have her own room, where he wouldn't
feel awkward about inviting guests into another man's home.
“Andrew did a good job.”

“
He
was the only architect I could think of who knew you well enough to
take on this project.”

Nick
could be sneaky, but this time he didn't have much trouble
reading between the lines. “And one you think I should be
talking to more often than I am?”

She
shrugged one shoulder and flashed him a sheepish smile. “He's
your best friend.”

Across
the room, Kat fiddled with her new digital camera, trying to line up
a shot of Michelle and John. She was smiling, damn near laughing, but
he'd known his cousin her whole life. Pain lingered in the
quiet moments, when her smile faded and her eyes lost focus. She'd
loved Andrew from the first moment Derek had introduced them,
helpless puppy love that had grown up as she did.

Shattered,
now. Andrew would never be that man again, any more than Derek could
go back to being human, and Kat would never understand any more than
Nick could. Nick had been born a wolf. She didn't know what it
was like to wake up in a body beyond your control, in a world that
wouldn't fit and instincts that wouldn't be quieted.

Nick
stroked his cheek and spoke in a low-pitched whisper. “Are you
okay, baby?”

“
I'm
supposed to protect her,” he replied quietly. “But I
can't, and I can't help him, either. I can't do
anything
.”